MtK update (Patreon)

“HHNN! Fucker! Take more! Don’t leave any of it behind! It’s all yours! Make me give you all of it!” she heard Ivy grit out, throat rasping, straining to put out every syllable through the rictus of her ecstasy.

“Sweet little slut—you think I’ll stop before you beg for mercy?” Bruce groaned, sinking his cock into Ivy’s hole.

“Not even then!” Ivy gasped. “Not! Even! THEN!”

Lark couldn’t take it anymore. Her pussy was demanding attention. The heat and wetness in her tight little cunt were maddening—it felt like she was trying to take Bruce’s cock without him deigning to enter her. Her body straining for the pleasure that Ivy was virtually having forced upon her, the redhead was so overwhelmed.

Lark slipped her hand down between her thighs to find her clit. She moaned softly, then hissed out a curse as she slid a slender finger inside herself. It was no Bruce Wayne, but it felt far better than self-restraint.

“Fuck her, Wayne!” Lark said, quietly, barely a whisper—she didn’t want to obstruct the sound of his flesh smacking against Ivy’s.

She held her pussy open so that she could get to her clit easier. Her cunt was so hot. She ran her finger along her slit until it touched her burning clitoris. Holding down on the pressure even as it became painful, she rubbed herself and listened to Bruce fucking this woman—this strong, beautiful, confident woman—that was obviously his bitch many times over.

“Fuck me, Bruce! Fuck me harder! Make me come!” Ivy said, her words almost abandoned under a deluge of moans and cries that more accurately represented her pleasure. If it weren’t for her lust, her greed for more, she wouldn’t have spoken at all.

“Take it all,” Bruce groaned, holding himself inside Ivy, sheathed deep in her cunt until the flood of thick cum had departed his balls and filled Ivy up. “This is what’s yours. Being my cock holster. Getting every last drop of my cum. And loving every minute of it.”

“Ooooooh,” Lark cried as softly as she could, envying Ivy too much to want to disturb her in her moment of rapture. “Fuck her good, Bruce. Make us both come…”

“Deeper, Bruce! Get me off again!” Ivy howled, at the opposite end of the spectrum from Lark’s soft voice. She wanted to disturb Bruce—wouldn’t allow him a moment’s peace when she could have more of the awe-inspiring satiation he’d given her a taste of. “Doesn’t your bitch get to come for you more than once?”

Ivy thrust her body up to be hammered back down by Bruce. Despite the soreness of her taut muscles, she exerted herself further to get at least one more rope of cum out of Bruce before he gave out.

“I’m still so close! You big fucker, you can do it! You can make me come again!”

“I will,” Bruce grunted, using his last bit of strength to continue the stroking coitus Ivy had so loved.

“There! I’m—again! Again!” Ivy shouted, exploding once more with a jubilant grin on her face. Almost unseemly in contrast to her usual coy, sultry look.

She moaned, feeling her sex boil over as it was lashed with fresh cum. The fullness of her liquid pussy whipping her away from any let-up in her glorious pleasure.

“Come for him!” Lark whined lowly, leaning against the wall to steady herself as she quaked violently, climaxing.

Knowing it was only a tenth what Ivy was feeling, if that, and still it was so good. Enough to needle into her mind; she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about this when she was back in Cobblepot’s possession. No, this would linger in her memory. It would haunt her. It would be her new fetish, her fantasy—being fucked as hard as Ivy had. Getting to come as much as her.

“Lover…” Ivy sighed, winding her way down from her sexual high, straight into the exhaustion her delight had held at bay.

She cradled Bruce’s body on tops of her as best she could when he was so much bigger than even her voluptuous body. Her cunt roiled, squeezing his shrinking manhood. Bruce made a last few gentle pumps with his hips, kissing her stiff nipples goodbye.

Bruce’s balls swayed against Ivy’s ass. Lark watched them prolong their coitus with her hand busy at her own sex. On a sudden impulse, she reached out with her empty hand and grabbed Bruce’s balls. They were full and heavy despite his prior ejaculation. The feel of their slight give in Lark’s squeezing hand was delectable. She ran the pad of her thumb over his wrinkled scrotum, pushed it between his balls and felt pinched between her fingers the leathery heaviness of the skin that held his testes.

Bruce huffed a sigh. He flexed his buttocks. His balls heaved. He pulled himself out of Ivy and came up to his feet, a growl coming off him when he breathed out.

His eyes swept over Lark’s naked body. She drank in his nudity in turn. Having seen how much Ivy had enjoyed herself, Lark couldn’t refuse how he’d satisfied her.

“I don’t give hand-outs,” Bruce said, his voice tight with lust for her, lust Lark knew she could access. “If you want what Ivy got, you’ll have to service me like she did.”

“Yes… God, yes… you’re so strong… so many muscles… and your cock… oh shit, Bruce, you’re so big, and hard! So hard already! How can you be so hard when you put all that cum in Ivy?” Lark babbled, wondering if this surreal impossibility was a sign that this was a dream. If it was, she hoped she wouldn’t wake up.

“How could I not be hard with a woman like you to fuck?” Bruce asked with a punch of a grin, taking his prick in hand and stroking it.

His eyes fixated on Lark’s bare breasts, her offered pussy. Not just savoring the sight of them, but planning how he would touch them, pleasure them. Lark could feel it already, almost. The first stirrings of an orgasm like the one Ivy’d enjoyed.

She, in turn, stared at his huge cock. She didn’t know how such a big organ had fit into Ivy. Or how it could possibly fit into her. But she knew the only way to the ecstasy that had conquered Ivy was to go through however much pain it would take to be full of that prick.

But she hesitated. Her body wanted, but her mind balked at the pain. Or her mind wanted, but her body knew what it would have to go through to fulfill her desire. It was Bruce who made the first move.

He reached out to her—big, powerful hands caressing the slopes of her face—the curve of her neck—down to her breasts, full and plump, not enough to fill his hearty grip, but they were heaving bigger all the time. He groped her accepting bosom, contact so crude and potently masculine that for a moment it was a disappointment. This she knew, this she was used to. Lark had thought she would get the thing that had stunned the vixen Poison Ivy.

Deftly, instantaneously, Bruce’s big hands became nimble and clever. He pinched her nipples dexterously, with just the right amount of force, just a little twist.

“Oh God!” Lark panted out. Her body was filled with a wondrous enjoyment, her hard nipples now ballooning to what felt like their limit. Her cunt clenching with the same rhythmic pulse that filled her swollen breasts.

The pain was slight, but a preparation. She knew she could endure more—a lot more—if it came with this sublime pleasure.

“Is this what you wanted?” Bruce asked thickly.

“Shit yes, Bruce, it’s everything I wanted!” Lark cried.

She knew in that instant what she’d been missing out on with the Penguin—the one thing he couldn’t give her. The happiness that she’d spent her whole life straining and scrimping and stretching for.

She’d enjoyed playing with Candy and Tracey, but now she knew that nothing they could ever do to her could compare to what Bruce had done to Ivy. What he promised to do to her.

Gently but inexorably, he took hold of her. This time, his touch didn’t seek to pleasure. It moved her, not roughly, but assuredly. If she wanted to resist, to do anything at all but what he wished for her, the game was over. Forfeit.

But he’d prepared Lark for her subservient role. Ivy had prepared her too, in a way. Seeing how the redhead was rewarded, Lark couldn’t help but assuage herself. Bruce was being far more domineering than Cobblepot had ever been with her, but he offered her a far greater bribe as well.

He led her to a counter like he would walk a well-behaved dog, bending her over it, then standing behind her. Hands sliding over her taut, rippling buttocks and opening them up to display the full bloom of her sex.